


Sugar Lumps

by HeartlessMemo



Series: Soft Nandermo Hours (Stand-Alone Fics) [8]
Category: What We Do in the Shadows (TV)
Genre: Crack, First Kiss, Fluff, Glitter, Grief/Mourning, Jahan - Freeform, M/M, Post-Episode: s02e02 Ghosts, Post-Ghosts, Vomiting, Wakes & Funerals
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-07
Updated: 2021-01-07
Packaged: 2021-03-18 05:48:43
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,092
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28613103
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/HeartlessMemo/pseuds/HeartlessMemo
Summary: "They hold the ceremony in the front hallway, the place of John’s “ascension.” Guillermo covers the walls with crȇpe paper, pennant banners illustrated with happy horsey faces, and neon-colored Lisa Frank pony posters. Bunches of horse-themed mylar balloons are anchored in every corner. The portrait of Nandor and John is displayed on an easel in front of a rickety antique table holding two bowls: one filled with sugar cubes, the other filled with oats. It looks more like a little kid’s birthday party than a horse funeral, but Guillermo tried his best. He always tries his best. Whether or not Nandor notices or appreciates that is another question altogether."---Guillermo arranges a funeral for Jahan and Nandor gives him a reward for his kindness.
Relationships: Guillermo de la Cruz/Nandor the Relentless
Series: Soft Nandermo Hours (Stand-Alone Fics) [8]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1881676
Comments: 12
Kudos: 38





	Sugar Lumps

**Author's Note:**

> Am I crazy... or a genius??????
> 
> Enjoy!!
> 
> Comments and kudos are always appreciated!
> 
> Behind the Scenes: Other titles considered: Save a Horse, Kiss a Familiar; A Boy and His Horse; Horse Funeral
> 
> Also, thank thank thank to all my nandermo friends who listened to me yell about horse funerals on discord, lol.

“Guillermo has come up with a very nice idea.”

Nandor the Relentless, immortal warrior and conqueror of thousands, addresses the camera while draped over his chaise lounge and clutching a gray horse plushy to his chest. He’s wearing his sad outfit: a Michael Jordan basketball jersey, a loosely tied cravat and a pair of his baggiest sweatpants. Instead of his usual stompy warrior-boots, he has on a pair of thick, white tube socks. His hair, at least, is neatly combed and oiled thanks to Guillermo’s attention. He sighs dramatically and lets his head flop against the back of the couch. 

“Not that it will bring back my poor John.”

🐴🐴🐴🐴🐴

The camera follows Guillermo as he pushes a tiny shopping cart up and down the aisles at Party City. He scans the shelves, frowning when he doesn’t find what he’s after. 

“My master has been really sad ever since the whole thing with his horse’s ghost crossing over...” His eyes light up as they turn down an aisle of decorations clearly meant for young children. Plates, napkins, hats, banners and balloons are all embellished with images of horses prancing, wind blowing through their manes and stars sparkling in their cartoon eyes.

“Perfect!” Guillermo exclaims, loading the cart with everything he can get his hands on. “So, anyway. I suggested that we hold a ceremony— a funeral— to help Nandor get some closure. He was resistant at first, but when I brought up the horse decorations…”

He looks into the camera with a grin that dimples his cheeks. Guillermo may be “too familiar,” he may be too needy, too eager to please… and too secretive now that he’s leading this double life as a slayer… but he understands his master. Nandor, content to wallow in his sadness, cannot resist the temptation of glittery technicolor party decor. So, what if it doesn’t look respectable and funerary? It’ll cheer Nandor up, which is all Guillermo cares about right now. He’ll worry about the assassins trying to kill them all tomorrow.

“I don’t know, what do you think?” He holds up a rubber mask in the shape of a horse’s head. “Too macabre?”

🐴🐴🐴🐴🐴

They hold the ceremony in the front hallway, the place of John’s “ascension.” Guillermo covers the walls with crȇpe paper, pennant banners illustrated with happy horsey faces, and neon-colored Lisa Frank pony posters. Bunches of horse-themed mylar balloons are anchored in every corner. The portrait of Nandor and John is displayed on an easel in front of a rickety antique table holding two bowls: one filled with sugar cubes, the other filled with oats. It looks more like a little kid’s birthday party than a horse funeral, but Guillermo tried his best. He always tries his best. Whether or not Nandor notices or appreciates that is another question altogether.

He has to browbeat Nadja and Laszlo into coming downstairs for the event. In the end he promises to dust Laszlo’s organ— cueing endless snickering from the lecherous vampire— and add “skull polishing” to his list of weekly chores. Colin Robinson comes up voluntarily, grinning in anticipation of a good meal.

“Master?” Guillermo knocks softly on the doorjamb. He’s put on his nicest sweater. Different shades of teal knitted into wavy vertical stripes that Nandor once complimented while under the influence of drunk blood—  _ ‘Those stripes look nice on your fat little belly, Guillermo.’ _

Nandor is still on the chaise where the camera crew left him, only now he’s curled up under a thick fur blanket. He groans at the interruption to his misery. “I’ve changed my mind!” he snaps, one hand emerging from his nest to wave Guillermo away. “I do not want to have a funeral for John! It’s a stupid idea and you’re stupid for thinking of it!”

Guillermo looks into the camera for a moment, the muscle in his jaw clenching before he closes his eyes and lets out a long breath. When he opens them again he gives the crew an apologetic smile. “Excuse us for a minute,” he says before shutting the door in their faces. 

“Nandor?” Guillermo speaks softly, dropping the title he uses in front of the documentary crew. He takes a seat beside him on the chaise.

The vampire doesn’t flinch away from his proximity as he might do on camera. Instead his body sways toward Guillermo, as if drawn to him by an invisible force. He hesitates, holding back for just a second, before falling forward and burying his tear-streaked face into Guillermo’s supple chest. “I don’t want them to see me crying,” he moans, fingers digging into the wool material of Guillermo’s sweater. 

Cheeks blazing with heat, Guillermo rests a hand on the back of Nandor’s head, softly threading his fingers through his hair. They’re always more easy with each other off camera. Nandor is kinder and more like a friend; Guillermo is less simpering and deferential. But Nandor has never been  _ this forward _ before. He’s never— _ is this a hug? Does this count as a hug? _ Guillermo tries to savor the physical closeness, but his master’s pain is heartbreaking. 

He chooses not to mention that everyone in the house has already  _ witnessed _ Nandor’s flamboyant grief over the last several days. Instead he wraps both arms around Nandor, squeezing him tight and insisting, “It’s okay to cry. No one will make fun of you.”

“No it’s not and they will!” Nandor sobbed, refusing to remove his face from Guillermo’s pillowy breast. His words came out muffled. “You don’t understand because you are not a vampire or a warrior or even a very cool guy. But I cannot be seen to be weak in front of the housemates. I am their leader.”

Guillermo feels the automatic urge to look up at a camera that isn’t there. Instead he just rolls his eyes to the ceiling and continues stroking Nandor’s head. “We can take as long as you need. I just hope Nadja and Laszlo don’t mess with my cool horse decorations…”

Nandor finally perks his head up, puffy eyes staring blearily up at Guillermo. “Did you get some with glitter?”

“Yes! And I put out some sugar and oats for John’s spirit…” Guillermo hopes that was right. On  _ Dia de los Muertos _ he and his amá put out sugar skulls and tamales for his dad and grandparents...

“That sounds nice,” Nandor offers, sitting up and wiping his nose on his sleeve. “Sometimes I would put a sugar lump in my mouth and John would take it as gently as a little baby bird…”

Guillermo purses his lips and narrows his eyes, trying to reckon this information with Nandor’s stories of pillaging and slaughter. 

“Alright!” Nandor slaps his knee and springs to his feet. “I can do this. For John.”

🐴🐴🐴🐴🐴

“...And this other time, I was in battle and this brute was about to clobber me with a maul and John sat on him! He just backed up his magnificent rump and splatted the man before he could hurt me!” Nandor’s lips are stained red with the blood he’s been sipping from a paper My Little Pony cup. 

Guillermo stands at his side, beaming up at him as Nandor regales them all with tales of John’s victories and the many mares he impregnated through the years. At first the other vampires feign polite interest. Gradually, though, Nandor notices that Nadja and Laszlo grow restless and bored. Colin, of course, spends the whole time feeding off of them until, finally, the couple is so exhausted that they drift off to their crypt without a word. Colin slinks away to the basement shortly thereafter, leaving Guillermo, Nandor and the documentary crew. 

As always happens when it is just the two of them and the cameras, Nandor clams up. He can’t have the human masses thinking he is not relentless enough! “Well, I suppose it is over now. Don’t you have some chores you should be doing, Guillermo?”

“Yes, master,” Guillermo mutters. He turns to the crew, gesturing to the door. “Not much else planned tonight, guys. Why don’t you head out?” 

Nandor breathes a sigh of relief, feeling a wave of gratitude envelope his heart. He is ready for the human camera people to be gone now.

The crew grumbles and mumbles a bit, but it’s two o’clock in the morning and they’re tired. So, in the end they take off a little early leaving Guillermo and Nandor blessedly alone. 

“Mas— Nandor?” Guillermo corrects himself quickly. “Nandor are you alright?”

Nandor stands by the easel, gazing at the portrait of his beloved horse and fiddling with the sugar cubes in the bowl. His shoulders rise and fall as he heaves a dramatic sigh. 

“I will be o-akay, Guillermo,” he responds and though he still feels sad, it’s not that despondent melancholy that has been clinging to him so mercilessly all these days. He turns his head to address Guillermo directly, looking into his human’s big, dark eyes and feeling affection bloom in his cold chest. “This really was a nice idea. Thank you, my…” He pauses, considering his word choice carefully. “...friend.”

The word rings hollow in Nandor’s ears. It doesn’t encompass everything that Guillermo is and yet how can he ever admit the whole truth? It was so easy with John. When he wanted to show the horse how he felt, he simply gave him a special treat. His fingers close around a sugar cube and a wild idea takes hold. 

“Guillermo…” He holds the cube aloft between them, waving it in front of Guillermo’s face playfully. Guillermo frowns and flinches back slightly, but Nandor persists. “Do you want a tasty sugar lump for throwing such a nice funeral for my dead horse?”

Guillermo’s eyes widen and Nandor can practically see the refusal forming until he takes the sugar cube and deliberately inserts it between his own teeth, careful not to let it touch his lips or tongue. He quirks a brow at Guillermo and the human’s heart flutters adorably to life. 

“You want me to…?” Guillermo gestures between his plump lips and Nandor’s open mouth. Nandor nods.

_ Thump, thump, thump. _ Like the galloping of John’s hooves over the battlefield, Guillermo’s heart races. His round cheeks fill with warmth, reddening from the blood pooling just beneath the surface of his skin. Nandor’s mouth waters and he aches to swallow against his sudden thirst for his familiar, but the sugar lump between his teeth prevents him.

Guillermo takes a halting step forward, then another, then another. They stand chest to chest, Guillermo’s soft, heaving breasts pressing against Nandor’s deathly stillness. His familiar looks up at him through long, curled lashes and Nandor nearly swallows the sugar cube.  _ He is beautiful, isn’t he?  _ And he did all of this just to make Nandor happy. With a wave of guilt, Nandor remembers joking in Wallace’s little hut about Guillermo being dead. Five hundred horse funerals would not be enough to quiet his sorrow if precious Guillermo were to perish!

He feels Guillermo’s stubby little fingers clasp the collar of his jersey. They gently tug until Nandor complies with the silent request, bending his neck and bringing their faces closer together. Nandor is mesmerized, unable to look away as Guillermo’s eyelids flutter closed and his lips purse together. He leans in and gently, carefully takes the sugar cube from Nandor’s mouth. When he bites into it a smile spreads across his lips as the grainy sweetness melts on his tongue. Nandor raises his hand to Guillermo’s cheek, cupping it and marveling at the feel of warm flesh against his cold palm.  _ How long does sugar take to dissolve in a human’s mouth again? _

“Guillermo,” he breathes. “I am going to kiss you now.”

🐴🐴🐴🐴🐴

Camera Two is jogging up the walkway to the vampire house, having dropped his cellphone somewhere inside, when he notices Nandor and Guillermo in the bushes. Nandor is hunched over, spewing projectile vomit while Guillermo rubs his back.

“It was a lovely kiss, Nandor,” Guillermo says, unaware of the crewmember behind him. “Next time we’ll just make sure—”

Nandor reers up and glares at Guillermo. “I try to give you a nice treat for arranging my horse’s funeral and what do you do? You goad me into kissing you! Disrespectful!”

Guillermo looks about ready to argue or cry when he finally notices the camera man. Before any of them can say a word, a shriek from the front steps cuts through the awkward moment. Laszlo sprints out of the house towards the vomit soaked topiary. 

“Not my bunny!”


End file.
